These City Lights
by Katsy0c0
Summary: At a time where scandals in Hollywood were new yet frequent, aspiring director Armin Arlert's rather violent script, along with his growing relationship with his leading lady Annie (Leon)Hart, may not be in his best interest. Not that it's stopping him in any way.
1. Angel In Devil's Shoes

September, 1923

The music around him was close to deafening. Perhaps it was all too loud, but Armin didn't mind too much. The decorations were particularly bombastic, as were the outfits of his fellow partygoers. Again, Armin didn't mind. All around him were people that simply wanted to have a good time. However, his idea of a good time was far from the lavish parties his friends often threw for what seemed like no reason in particular. If it weren't for the fact that Jean was such a good friend and promised him a meeting over Armin's upcoming film project, he'd be at home reading a book under dim light.

Still, he didn't mind.

"Armin!" He heard an all-too enthusiastic southern drawl yell from across the room. "Come and dance with me!"

Sasha bounced on her black heels, the ruffles on her dress flowing with each movement of her body. She was all smiles even as Armin shook his head.

"Not tonight Sash, I'm actually waiting for someone." He took a tentative sip from his glass, a slight grimace gracing his face from the bitter taste.

"Aw, rhatz." She leaned against a nearby chair and huffed, glancing around for anyone she knew. "Connie's playing trumpet tonight, and Jean said he's too busy being a good host...phooey, if you ask me. He promised me last time he'd let me show him a few things, but he just left me holding the bag once again..."

Armin chuckled, and she smiled at him in return. "I'm real sorry. M-Maybe Mar-"

"Marco!" She bounced up, and fixed her dress before making her way out into the hall. "See ya Armin! Hope you find who you're looking for!" Armin set his glass down and waved, though she was out of sight in an instant. "I hope so too."

He sighed, and leaned back. No, Armin didn't mind the parties. He didn't mind his friends having fun doing things he himself didn't enjoy, or wasn't particularly good at. He would have gladly taken Sasha up on her offer if he was any good a dancer. All he could really do was sit back and chat, rely on his people skills, and maybe choke down a few drinks if the situation called for it. And people did often come up and talk to him. It was to be expected after having two very successful short films in about two years. Not too long ago Armin could have easily stayed in the background at these things, but now it was hard to walk to the bathroom without someone pulling him aside and congratulating him, or "discreetly" asking him if he had any open roles for a next project.

Now that, Armin did mind.

"Hey!" Another loud voice called over the music from across the room, but a voice Armin wanted to hear. Eren, like Sasha, seemed oddly enthusiastic and almost bouncy. It wouldn't have been odd if it weren't for the fact that Armin knew he usually hated these kinds of events.

"Saved a seat for you." Armin smiled, and pulled up the two chairs opposite of him. "Where's Mikasa?"

"Good question, she's uhhh," Oh yeah, Armin could tell his best friend was already a little buzzed. "She's in the bathroom powdering her nose, uh, I stepped on her foot and I think she's a little mad about it? I don't know." Eren sat back and asked the bartender for a belt of liquor before clearing his throat. "Fuck it, I was getting so close too…"

Armin raised an eyebrow, and Eren began to pout with a deeply furrowed brow. "Close to what?"

"Didn't I tell you?" Eren glanced at him as he took a sip of his drink, which Armin was tempted to take away from him. "I'm, I'm asking her to marry me." Suddenly Eren looked very sheepish.

Armins eyes went wide. "You didn't tell me! At least, not that you were asking her tonight. You talked like it was a few years away at best!" Armin sighed, but couldn't contain his smile. "I don't think she'd even think you were serious with that edge of yours right now."

"Edge?" The confusion on his face said it all. "I only had a glass or three before hand!" He furrowed his brow once again and rubbed his eyes.

"You weren't originally planning to do it tonight, were you?"

Eren shook his head and huffed, taking another sip of his drink.

"Eren, I know it's hard to do even without a couple of drinks, but you really need to think that kind of thing through!" Like Eren was ever one to think things out in the first place.

"Tch, lay off…" Eren snickered despite himself, and ordered them another round against Armin's protests.

"I-I can't get drunk, I have to meet someone." Armin pushed it away, giving Eren a small glare that didn't seem to compute. "Remember?"

"The actress?" Armin nodded, and Eren noted the nervous gulp he took. "How come you haven't chit chatted with her yet? We've been here at least two hours."

Honestly, Armin wondered the same thing. In those two hours he'd wandered around Jeans beachside mansion about three times and had yet to come across the blonde actress he was so eager to meet. The thought of it made his face light up. To meet the young actress he'd been entranced with since he first came across her in 1919, when she was just making her debut on film and he was simply thankful to still be breathing. Not just meeting her, but offering her a role. The excitement started to bubble up in him, and he hopped up from his chair. "I'm gonna go find Jean, he probably knows something!"

Eren came up from another swig. "Wha? You're leaving me for that egg?" Armin was definitely about to take his glass away as his intoxication became more apparent. He sighed and did just that, much to Eren's chagrin.

"Leave the bartender an ace or two, would ya?" He nodded and smiled at the man who had so generously served them their share of the bootleg liquor in Jean's mansion. "I probably won't be long, so don't move."

"H-Heeeey wait...At leasst find Mikasha for me?" Eren's slurred speech earned a chuckle out of a slightly concerned Armin.

Even so, Armin nodded and began to move out of the crowded room, leaving Eren to wallow as Mikasa entered on que. Armin sighed in relief at that and moved along.

The hallways were unusually, and unfortunately, crowded as far as Jean's parties usually went. Looking around, Armin saw everyone from excited college friends, to aspiring actresses and other directors enjoying their time in New York before what they assumed would be their time in Hollywood. Even one of the producers of the studio Armin had a contract with, Mr. Smith if he recalled, was schmoozing with a rather surly and tired looking photographer, a cigar between his fingers and smoke emitting from his lips.

Down that particular hallway led outside to the beach. The sky was getting darker, but it was hard to tell with all the lamps and lights that illuminated the shore. The sea salt air hit him the moment he stepped out into the night, the calm atmosphere of the waves crashing down in direct contrast to the life and party going on around him. People were chatting and laughing ceaselessly, and he was almost ready to turn around when he noticed Jean off to the side talking with two rather large fellow leading men. Who could ever turn away after hearing the boisterous laugh of the burley Reiner Braun to begin with?

"Here comes the next D.W. Griffith himself!" Reiner beckoned Armin over to their little group of three, a large smile on his face. Jean had a glass in his hand and a slight stagger in his step. Great, Armin thought. Two drunk friends he'll inevitably have to listen to or take care of tomorrow.

Still, he smiled on. "I wouldn't say that exactly." A small blush spread across his cheeks. "Two short films don't add up to much."

"Eh, don't be such a wet blanket and get over here!" Reiner's laugh broke through again, and Armin relented. He was mere inches away before Jean grabbed him and put his arm around his shoulder. Armin could smell the alcohol emanating off of him. He scrunched his nose, but Jean didn't seem to notice.

"This guy," Jean started, before taking a big swig of his drink. "This fella right here!" He poked Armin in the chest, who returned it with a nervous smile directed at Reiner and his taller companion, Bertholdt. "This fella is gonna be bigger than Griffith!"

"J-Jean…" Bertholdt, the most sober of that trio, stammered out, sensing Armin's discomfort. Armin met his eye, smiled, and shook his head.

He brushed off Jean's arm and turned to face him, hoping to at least get something out of him despite how increasingly drunk he was getting. He pulled him away from the group and said his goodbyes as Bertholdt tried to take control of the drunk Reiner. "Uh, Jean, where is she?"

"Where is she who?" Jean asked, cocking a brow and taking a last sip of his glass.

Armin frowned. "Annie Hart. The whole reason I came tonight, remember?"

For a moment, Jean had a blank stare. "Anniiiiiie…..Annie! Yeah, Annie, for that...film project a' yours."

"Jean, you're in that film project of mine." Armin sighed, and wondered why he even bothered with Jean like that. For all he knew, Jean didn't even know he was in his own home. "Well…do you know where she is?"

"Aw, your face is red. Just say you gotta crush, Arlert." He laughed to himself, and Armin groaned. At that point he was ready to step away. "Sweet Annie….isn't here."

"What?" Armin could feel his heart sinking, a look of disappointment quickly forming on his face. "But you said-"

"I said-," Jean cleared his throat, blinking several times to regain his footing. "I said I invited her to come and meet you, I didn't say she accepted my invitation." He grabbed a glass off a passing tray and took a swig, giving a dazed smile in return to Armin's wry expression. "She doesn't come to these things often. Wanna drink?"

Armin stared at him for a moment. Suddenly, that drink didn't sound like such a bad idea. Perhaps, just maybe, Jean's inebriation made him less reliable. And yet Armin knew he was right. He'd walked around several times and saw no sign of the blonde actress. The face of Annie Hart was one he'd recognize easily in a crowd like this. He put his face in his hands and groaned. "Ugh, go drink a glass of water and sit down. Or at least call Marco tomorrow to complain about your hangover instead of me. Thanks for trying to help."

It didn't take him long to feel a twinge of guilt at his bitter tone. After all, he thought, it's not Jean's fault that an industry novice like Armin had no business expecting an actress as big as Annie, no matter how good his story was. The only reason Jean was involved was because the two had been long time friends since high school. And at the end of the day, it's the connections you have that truly make or break you.

Still, Jean was in his right mind enough to know when to leave him alone. With a sympathetic smile, he put his hand on Armin's shoulder. "You'll get her, buddy." Next thing Armin knew, Jean was staggering away, calling for a scotch and asking where Marco was. Armin stood alone in the crowd, taking in a deep breath of the sea-salt air to process his disappointment.

"Damn." He spit out under his breath, moving back into the house and through the now suffocating halls. Armin had no clue where to go from there. No, he knew he wanted to go home. The party would surely go on into the a.m., but Armin wanted nothing more than to curl up under the covers in his cozy Brooklyn apartment. At the moment, he thought, Eren was no doubt wasted and making a fool of himself while his intentions fly over Mikasa's head as nonsense. Seeing as he lived with them, there probably wouldn't be any leaving for at least another hour or so.

In the adjacent room, he could hear excited hollers of "Get hot! Get hot!" He peaked in and saw Sasha grinning wide as she danced side by side with her bandleader boyfriend. Of course, Connie could never stay away from her the entire night. It was a happy sight at least, making Armin perk up just enough to smile and laugh along with everyone else. Behind him could be heard the most recognizable laugh of all.

Armin turned his head and saw Reiner and Bertholdt down the hall, schmoozing with a couple of musicians who Armin barely recognized. Even Bertl had a glass in his hand, probably giving up on controlling Reiner for the evening.

If you can't beat 'em, join 'em. An old saying that certainly rang true as Armin grabbed a glass of whiskey off a passing by tray. He winced as he guzzled down the first bitter sip, yet even the burning sensation going down his throat couldn't stop him. Before he knew it, a second, third glass was in his hand, and when Sasha waved him over, he almost fell by simply waving back.

Now, there are several different kinds of drunk someone can become. There's the angry drunk, one whom Armin had the privilege to have never come across. There's the laughing, obnoxious idiot drunk that Reiner and Jean quickly became after several glasses. There's the drunk who regresses into almost a sort of needy child. Eren, for example.

Then there's the drunk who after several glasses of hard liquor can barely remember who they are, nevermind where they are. That would be Armin Arlert. And that was definitely the case by glass number five.

"Armin, buddy!" Connie called from across the room, getting a laugh at Armin's obvious edge. Armin turned to him and grinned, almost dropping his glass in the process when he took his first staggered steps. "Sasha wants to know if you're sloshed enough to dance! I have to go back and play!"

"Psshhhft-" Armin stumbled over, using Connie's shoulder to support himself. "I'm-" he cleared his throat and laughed, covering his face with one hand. "Shasha? Shashaaaaaaa.," Connie could smell the whiskey on his breath, and Armin didn't bother to lower his voice despite the fact that the two were inches away. The music was particularly muffled in that room anyway. "Oooohhh god nooooo she'll be so sad…"

Connie laughed, and propped Armin back up as he began to fall over. "Whoa, don't pass out just yet!"

"Nnnnnever!" Armin rubbed his eyes, but it did little to help the fuzziness of the figures around him. He could barely make out Connie's face. "Have you seen Annie?"

"Who's Annie?" Connie questioned, trying hard to keep in his laughter at the rare sight of an inebriated Armin. "I think you need to go lay down, fella. Hey. blondie!" He called to a woman near by. "Watch my friend for me! Make sure he doesn't start any fights or steal anything. He's an unpredictable one, I tell ya!" Connie left the room with a chuckle, and Armin was left leaning against the wall and downing another glass.

"Fffffffutz-" He pushed up from the wall to try his best to make his way back to Eren and Mikasa. The most progress he made was about two step before he tripped right into another party-goer, the blonde one Connie had called to, spilling her own drink on her red dress. He looked up and could barely make out her features, thanks in part to the dark birdcage hair piece that covered her eyes. Though at least she didn't seem to be scowling. Instead she was laughing, probably not in the best of minds herself.

"I would sock you, kid," She slurred out, grabbing Armin by the collar. He winced, and felt a burning sensation grow on his cheeks when he noticed how close the woman was. "If you weren't so damn cute."

Armin bit his lip and chuckled, the noise emitting from his lips almost sounded like a raspberry. He was too dazed to even respond, and too disoriented to move without falling over.

The woman cleared her throat. "So what'll it be, mac? Is the bank closed tonight?"

As if Armin wasn't already flushed enough. Even in a drunken daze he knew what she was offering. Were he in his right mind, he would have simply apologized and bought her another drink, said goodnight, and left. However, as he finished his seventh glass, he had no qualms with a little drunk necking.

She pushed him up against the wall, and their lips met sloppy and fast. Her mouth was soft against his and Armin tasted the unmistakable flavor of vodka on her lips. Her fingers threaded through his hair, and his hands were at her waist, not so subtly moving down to grope at her ass. He broke away from her lips and kissed across her jaw and down her neck, where he stayed for awhile before going to her ear and whispering something that caused her to blush deeper than she already was. His lips met hers again, and he could swear he was dreaming this whole thing. Nothing but a drunken mind trick. Not that he even cared at that point. He continued to kiss her, and at one point he turned them over so she was against the wall. It wasn't long after this that he was finally snapped back into the real world and forced away.

"I'll be taking this." Mikasa grabbed him by the back of the collar. "Have a nice night, miss."

Armin barely got to wave goodbye before Mikasa swung him over one shoulder and began to move out. Her absurd strength came in handy in even this situation. "Taxi's outside, we're going home."

" Soo you're not marrying me?!" Eren was on her other shoulder, barely conscious as he continued to whine to her. "Mikasaaaaaa marry meeeeee."

She sighed and said goodnight to a barely sober Jean before carrying the two out, ignoring any odd stares she got along the way.

* * *

><p>Armin was rudely woken up the next morning by the sound of a tea kettle. His head was throbbing, but the pain was dull and much better than the splitting headache he knew Eren was going to be waking up with. For a quick healer, his best friend certainly didn't deal with hangovers well. Slowly, Armin lifted his head and rubbed his eyes. He scanned the room, and noted the glasses of water left on their individual night stands, no doubt from Mikasa. Poor Mikasa, who had to carry them both up to their apartment while Eren no doubt made an ass of himself in repeatedly asking her to marry him. He wondered if she took Eren's question seriously at all.<p>

Reluctantly, Armin lifted himself from his bed and threw on his robe and slippers. It must have been close to noon. He guzzled down his glass of water and examined his face in the mirror. The bags under his eyes made it look like he hadn't slept in days, while the dry drool on the side of his mouth indicated otherwise. All that mixed with the dull ache in his head, and Armin was reminded why he rarely ever drank, none the less got drunk.

"Aspirin's in the cabinet." Mikasa chimed up when he stumbled into the kitchen. Armin smiled and nodded at her before moving to get the medicine. He could smell bacon cooking on the stove. Really, he didn't know how he and Eren could get through anything without Mikasa there.

"Ugh, I'm sorry Mikasa." He sat at the table and buried his face in his hands, though primarily to shield his eyes from the overhead light. She stayed standing at the stove, a grin pulling at her lips.

"Lay off the whiskey next time and it's okay." She turned with two cups of tea in her hands, and passed one over to Armin. "Though I think I should save the lecture for Eren."

Armin smiled and nodded as he sipped the hot drink, the ache in his head slowly fading. "I don't think he'll be up for a while."

"I know." She sighed, a slightly solemn look on her face as she got up and turned off the stove. "I'm trying to make sure he's as well rested and comfortable as possible when he does wake up."

Armin examined her, noting the subtle determined glint in her eyes as she grabbed the aspirin and a washcloth that was damp with warm water. Her hands seemed dry and cracked at the surface, something that usually didn't happen till cold mid-winters.

"You work too hard."

She didn't pay him much mind except to give him a small grin. Armin knew that was all the reaction he would get out of her. In her mind, when it came to the people she loved there was no limit. If she risked contracting influenza to take care of Armin a few years ago, taking care of Eren's hangover now was nothing.

"Do you mind taking the aspirin?" Mikasa handed it over to him before picking up a third cup of tea. The washcloth was held tight in her other hand. Armin felt fairly dizzy, but followed her back into the bedroom. Eren had barely moved since Armin stepped out. The only change was the growing drool stain on his pillow. Gingerly, Mikasa set the washcloth across his forehead and the cup of tea down on his nightstand. The most he did was grunt in response. Mikasa crouched beside him, placing the back of her hand on his cheek. "He's out like a light."

Armin sat back on his bed and smiled at her, taking a sip from his cup. "I would say we can talk at a normal level, but my head is only barely starting to clear up."

He set his mug down on his own nightstand, careful not to damage his copy of Photoplay that rested on it. A slightly embarrassing week-old purchase that got him his fair share of teasing from his roommates. To be fair, Armin was never one to waste money on such a thing. He wouldn't have even bothered were it not for the particular actress who graced the cover. Of course, the caption didn't help the teasing. America's Angel; Hart's Got Heart!

"Why does it have to be her?" Mikasa cut into Armin's train of thought, and he glanced up at her, his cheeks tinged red.

"...I, it's uh, it's a little silly…" He averted his eyes from hers and scratched at his cheek.

"I bet it's not." She gave him a soft smile, which comforted him significantly more. He sat crosslegged on his bed and leaned against his palms.

"She's, well, she's sort of my muse." He blushed, letting out a nervous laugh and fidgeting with his hands. "Do you remember a couple years ago when I finally recovered and you and Eren took me to the movies to lift my spirits?" Mikasa nodded and smiled at the memory. "We went to see a few Chaplin shorts, and she was in one of them."

"Was she?" Mikasa cocked a brow as she began to shift her position and hug in her legs. "I don't remember seeing her."

"It was 1919. Hell, I'm sure that film was her debut. She was no Pickford." He paused for a moment to take a sip of his tea. "I think what captured my attention was how surprisingly subtle she was. If you compare her style to that of, say, Christa Lenz, there's something completely different. There was no exaggeration. She was able to get across so much emotion with the most subtle of movements of her face and hands alone…and, well, okay, the far more simplistic answer is she inspired me to begin."

Mikasa grinned at him. "So basically you're a shameless goofy fan?"

"Well," Armin's cheeks went red again. "I-I think it's a lot more than that-" His story was cut off abruptly, interrupted by the obnoxious ringing of their telephone.

"God damnit." They heard Eren bark from under the pillow he was pressing to his ears. Mikasa turned to him concerned. "Someone get the fucking phone before my head splits open."

Mikasa got up quick and picked the phone up from Armin's desk. Eren let out a sigh of relief when the ringing finally stopped.

"Hello?" She answered close to a whisper. Eren's face was completely buried in his pillow as low grumbles could be heard. "Jean?"

"Tell him we don't want any." Eren snapped from under his pillow. Mikasa shot him a look.

"Yeah, he's right here. Armin, he wants to talk to you."

Armin raised a brow, but slowly got up and walked over to the phone. He smiled at Mikasa and took the receiver in his hands. "Try not to talk too loud Jean, my head isn't done pounding me yet."

"Believe me, I'd still be sleeping the day away if it wasn't from a call I got a few minutes ago. I haven't left my bed." Armin could hear the lack of sleep and hangover in Jean's voice, almost humorously. "So...okay, as it turns out I was wrong last night."

"What do you mean?" Armin sat at his desk, his free hands playing with a stray pencil.

"I was wrong. Ms. Annie was there last night." Armin's hands stopped what they were doing, his eyes quickly going wide.

"Are you sure?! But you said-"

"I know, I know what I said." Jean huffed, and for a moment spoke to someone else in the room with him. Armin recognized the other voice, but was too focused on his missed opportunity to care about who Jean had spent a night with. "Well, I wasn't exactly wrong. She came later. She wasn't there last I checked the guest list, and by the time she did I was too zozzled to pay much mind so….woops?"

Armin was silent for a moment, his face set in a way that let all in the room with him know that Armin Arlert was more than a little done with that morning. "...For cryin' out loud, Jean."

"...Don't get grummy, though, buddy I did manage to fix just about everything." The optimism in his voice was promising. "That call I got was from Ms. Hart herself telling me that I shouldn't trick her into coming to another party with job offers, but I gave her your address and she should be at your door any minute."

"What?!" Panic swelled up in him as he looked around the room. A room that hadn't been cleaned in three days with a hungover roommate still in bed. Armin himself didn't look too great, either. "Jean, I'm not ready yet!"

"Bushwa." Jean snorted, and yawned before speaking again. "You'll do great. No need to thank me now. I'm just doing my job as your friend and leading man." Armin could practically feel his self-satisfied grin. "Just show her your draft and be on your way. She's not exactly unfamiliar with that type of role."

Armin took in a deep breath, trying his best to calm down his nerves. A familiar knot built up in his stomach as he processed this. "...Okay. Thanks, Jean. Go back to sleep."

"I plan to." Jean sounded quite a bit more pleasant as he signed off. "Tell me how it goes, okay? Don't make an idiot out of yourself, ya big sap."

Jean hung up, and Armin took in a huge gulp before setting the phone down himself. Mikasa met his eyes, and he looked like nothing short of a deer in the headlights.

"I-I gotta get ready!" Armin shot up from his chair and ran toward his dresser, almost tripping in the process. His headache was completely ignored even though it seemed to be getting worse again.

"Slowdown." Mikasa followed him, leaving a seemingly sleeping Eren's side. "What's eating you?"

"I can't find anything clean and spiffy, that's what's eating me…" Armin grabbed and pulled at his already disheveled mess of blond hair as he frantically searched for a clean pair of trousers and a button-up. "I-I haven't even brushed my teeth yet."

Mikasa opened up a drawer and searched with him. "If she's coming, I'm sure it won't be for at least an hour or two." Of course she spoke far too soon. As Armin grabbed for the closest thing to clean trousers he could find, the nerve wracking buzz of the doorbell sounded across their apartment, earning an annoyed groan from Eren. Armin's head shot up, his heart beginning to practically hammer out of his chest. He glanced at Mikasa with wide-eyes, and she seemed to understand his pleading look.

"I guess I'll go make her some coffee. You have a clean shirt in the closet, I believe." Armin smiled at her, then continued to dig through his clothes. By the time he heard the front door click closed and the sound of heels on tile, he had a toothbrush in his mouth and a white shirt untucked and half-way buttoned. His suspenders hung uselessly from his pants as his fingers fumbled with several buttons. From the crack in the door, he could see the activity going on in the kitchen.

He moved closer and peaked out, mindlessly buttoning and unbuttoning an area of his shirt as he finally got a glimpse of the woman he had only had the pleasure of seeing on screen or in magazines. Mikasa offered her coffee, and told her Armin was just getting some things together. Not entirely wrong.

Annie sat at the kitchen table, one ankle crossed over the other, and her face leaning on her palm. Her finger waved blonde hair fell into her eyes, and she pushed it back with her other hand, revealing a very striking pair of blues. The plain cream cloche on her head added a nice simplistic charm, in contrast to the glamorous atmosphere she had a tendency to give off in pictures.

All he could think was, wow, she really is an angel. And she looked...bored.

Not that he could blame her.

"Do you take sugar?" Mikasa asked, grabbing a cup from an above cupboard. Annie nodded, and thanked her before leaning back in her seat. For the second time in only minutes Armin's heart was pounding. He leaned against the doorway, shirt buttoned up finally, and toothbrush working again as he continued to just take all of her in. He didn't completely know what he was feeling. In front of him was a woman who he had been eager to meet for years. Someone who he knew only through film, to the point where most people would forget she was even real. Someone he felt an odd kinship with. And there she was sitting at his kitchen table.

He was in such a daze he didn't even notice she was staring right back at him.

"Hi."

Armin almost choked on his toothbrush. He stepped back and slammed the door, heat rising on his cheeks from the utter humiliation. While slipping his suspenders onto his shoulders and tucking in his shirt, he sprinted to the bathroom to spit out the toothpaste that also ran the risk of choking him. He was finally able to breathe, his face red as a tomato when he looked up into the mirror. For a moment, he hid his face in his hands to let out a much needed groan.

"Okay," He took in another deep breath, and exhaled to a count of twelve. "You can do this. You have to do this. You can do this." He repeated as he continually splashed water on his face. Of course he could do it. He had a solid story and a contract with a large studio out west. Not to mention a small name for himself thanks to a couple short films, and a silver tongue to boot, so why would she say no? Well, there were a number of reasons why, but he didn't want to focus on that. Out the door, he could hear the faint sound of the radio playing a little jazz tune in the kitchen. With one more splash to the face, he was ready.

The script on his desk felt particularly heavy as he slipped it under his arm, and turning the doorknob was more difficult than it should have been. On the other side, Mikasa greeted him with a smile while Annie's eyes were focused on the mug in her hands.

"Do you want any coffee?" Mikasa offered. Her way of subtle reassurance. Armin shook his head and thanked her, and she in turn made her way out of the kitchen, but not before giving him a pat on the shoulder and a kiss on the cheek.

And just like that they were alone. Armin still had trouble believing the woman in front of him was actually there. His cheeks felt hot again when she looked up from her mug and met his eyes. Her powerful, yet oddly soft stare left him momentarily breathless.

"I'm sorry I missed you last night." He said in his most sincere tone of voice, a light smile gracing his lips.

Her long fingers held the mug in her hands tight. "It's not your fault. Our gracious host and most around him were too plastered to care by the time I arrived."

"Heh, yeah." Armin's cheeks grew pink at the memory of his own intoxication. He was just glad he had barely any memory of what happened during. Annie's eyes glanced him up and down as he stood, a heavy silence growing over them as she continued to bore into him, trying her best to figure out the scrawny writer in front of her. She wasn't the only one though. Armin took little notice to the heavy atmosphere. For the life of him, he wanted to be able to read her expression.

"You don't look much like a director." She quipped, taking a sip of her coffee. Her voice had a monotone quality to it, something which he hadn't expected, telling from her screen presence.

"Not tall enough?" He pulled out a chair for himself and sat across from her, his eyes reluctant to tear away.

"Not hard enough." She responded, leaning back in her seat. If she were slightly less polite, she would have half a mind to comment on his absurdly youthful appearance as well.

The light accent to come out of her, which made it obvious she grew up in one of the boroughs, was also a bit unexpected. Armin didn't mind one bit. He found it strangely melodious, and wished she would say more.

He smiled at her, and hoped to eventually see a genuine smile from her too. "You're not the first person to call me a sap, Ms. Annie."

"I didn't imply you were a sap. I implied you looked soft. When I made eye contact with you before, you scurried away like a scared puppy," Though her statement sounded harsh, something told Armin she didn't mean it that way. Her atmosphere was certainly a lot cooler then he would have imagined, as opposed to the gentle ingenue she would pretend to be in film. "The men I've worked with would already be staring me down and telling me which way to turn my head and cry by now. Some of them are more like generals. I wouldn't have known you were my prospective director if that dame of yours didn't tell me."

"'Dame of mine?'" Armin chuckled, and pulled his chair in closer. "It's not like that, I can assure you. Mikasa's like a sister to me. Not to mention, she's actually with my best friend Eren. Ah, he lives here too, he's just passed out in the-"

"No need to reassure me, I actually didn't care, to be honest."

Armin stared at her for a moment. _She's certainly got a sharp tongue to spare_. Another unexpected thing about the young actress. Of course, Armin was never foolish enough to mistake a screen persona for the actual person. So far, he found her more than a little intriguing. Still, he smiled. "Should I take that as a no, Ms. Annie?"

"Oh, of course not." She leaned forward on her palms again, her expression changing minimally with the exception of widened eyes. "At least give me a chance to look at the story before I reject you."

He grinned, and slid the script her way before leaning back and crossing his arms. Annie grabbed it, and peaked up at him before opening up the first page. Suddenly, Armin felt afraid. The nervous knot in his stomach tightened as his heartbeat sped up. He cursed himself for the self doubt that arose within him as Annie scanned the first couple pages. _She's gonna hate it. It's terrible, I'm in over my head. What am I thinking_… He gulped, and excused himself so he could grab a quick glass of water, his headache resurfacing as he got up.

Annie glanced up at him, noting his nervous mannerisms as she stared at him from behind. A small grin swept her face before she looked back down onto the page she was on.

"A horror?" She chimed up, giving Armin a bit of a jump.

"Y-Yeah," He sat back down, the glass shaking in his hand. "I was kind of going for something like the German expressionist films."

"Bold choice for a newcomer…" She trailed off and turned the page, one finger resting on her bottom lip. "Not a very wholesome genre, is it? I guess the blacklist is nothing to fear if you don't have anything to lose."

"Well...we're never going to move forward in this industry if we don't take some risks, see." Armin looked down at his glass, his finger mindlessly skimming the rim. His expression turned thoughtful, and Annie found herself staring for a moment before returning her gaze to the pages of the script.

"I'm sure the moral guardians would have a few things to say about that." Armin grew increasingly fascinated with the tone of her voice. A tone which was somewhat hard to pick up to begin with. In a way, she sounded like she was trying to get a rise out of him.

He glanced up and briefly met her eyes again before quickly looking down and turning red. Probably not the best way to make himself seem like less of a softly, he figured. "I'm sure they would. Though I think this will all blow over eventually. This is a creative industry, Ms. Annie. We can't let things like this hold us back."

"I don't disagree, Mr. Arlert." Her eyes seemed to light up just a bit when turning the page, seemingly enjoying whatever it was she was reading. Armin smiled at that, and mimicked her own position by leaning on his palm. "I guess I just have more to lose."

Annie's coffee was an uncomfortable lukewarm when she took another sip. Her elbow rested on the page, as to not lose her place. "Am I scaring you?"

He cocked a brow. "Are you trying to? Because I think that's supposed to be my job in this situation."

Annie didn't answer, but was surprised to see him getting up from his chair and coming up behind her. A hesitant hand rested on her shoulder for a moment before pulling away. Armin leaned over and examined whatever page she was on. She turned to look at him, and could feel the heat radiating off his skin. _He's handsome,_ she thought. "The scenario is quite good so far, actually."

"You think so?" His face lit up, and he smiled right at her. "I...I was actually going to write it as a comedy originally."

"I don't see how any of this can be comedic, Mr. Arlert."

"That was the problem…" Armin let out a nervous chuckle, his face growing a light shade of red again. "When Eren and Mikasa looked it over they said they were more disturbed than anything...I've, uh, I've never been much of a comedian."

"Ya don't say…Hm." She chuckled softly to herself and turned the page. As Annie looked it over, one leg crossed over the other, revealing a deliberate bit of the upper part of her stocking. Was it even deliberate? Armin was too busy trying to ignore it than to really think it through.

He cleared his throat. He pulled his chair over so he could sit next to her, and noticed she was almost at the end. "S-See, I was thinking you'd fit well as the older sister, named Mary. Christa Lenz would be the younger sister." Armin reached over to slide the script toward him and the two looked it over side by side. He flipped back to the beginning, searching for a certain section of the scenario. Annie once again rested her cheek on her palm, her arms crossing and her dress crumpled to reveal a generous amount of cleavage that he swore he hadn't seen before-

Cheeks tingling, he turned his eyes back to the page.

"I thought so." Annie leaned in closer to him, presumably to get a better look of the page he was skimming. In the process, she rubbed slightly against him. Armin bit his lip and turned to look at her. Annie's eyes were too focused on the page to notice. Her hat was on the table, and some of her hair had started to fall into her face. The more he watched, the more tempted he was to push it back behind her ear. Her expression remained close to blank. "You wouldn't have wanted me to play any other character."

Armin raised an eyebrow, his composure slowly coming back. "Well...I admit, I did write her specifically for you." He scratched his cheek, and grinned. "Is there anything you'd like me to change?"

She finally looked up at him, her expression changing to one that seemed to hint towards some kind of excitement. Soon, she was back to normal. "It's your story, not mine. I've just played this type of character before."

"Oh?" Armin knew, of course. He was embarrassed to admit that he'd seen practically all of her pictures.

She nodded, and let out a sigh. Her legs uncrossed, one of the them brushing up slowly against Armin's leg. For a moment, he went stiff and held his breath. Again, Annie didn't seem to notice. "I'm a young blonde girl barely in her twenties. You think the studios would approve me playing a baby vamp?"

Flustered, Armin shook his head.

"Playing the ingenue can get boring, but a paycheck is a paycheck at the end of the day."

"I-I understand." Armin gulped, and let out a shaky breath before smiling at her once again. "They're never boring when you play them, though."

She shrugged. "I do what I can with a tired archetype."

"I think you're absolutely brilliant."

Annie side glanced him. "... 're certainly a kinder fella then most of the directors I've worked with."

"I mean it, though." Armin noticed a small glint in her eyes. "You're brilliant, even if you don't choose to flaunt it."

Her brow furrowed, and she once again glanced right at him with smoldering eyes. "Well, I don't flaunt it like your friend Kirschtein does at least."

"Heh, few do-" His breath caught again as he felt her foot brush up his leg. "Y-Yeah, I, uh…"

Annie leaned toward him, her face still resting on her palm. She put a soft hand on his forearm, and the hairs on the back of arms neck went right up. "What's eating you, mac?"

"I-I just, you know, uhm, s-s-s-o is it a deal, or-" His face was hot, only growing hotter when he noticed how close she was.

_Wait a second._ A nervous laugh escaped his lips as he pushed his hair out of his eyes. The tiny smirk on Annie's face confirmed his thoughts. "M-Ms. Annie, are you trying to seduce me?"

The smirk wiped off her face, and she leaned back. "Am I? That's certainly something to say to your leading lady."

"N-No, it's just, I don't think you-" Before he could get much further, she got up from her seat and grabbed her hat.

"I really should scoot, obviously I've been here too long." Annie pulled the hem of her dress down below her knees and walked toward the door, while Armin got up and stuttered for her to stop.

Finally, he grabbed her hand. "Wait a hot second! You're testing, me aren't you?"

Annie stopped in her tracks and turned to him. "What would ever give you that idea, Mr. Arlert?"

Armin let go of her hand and moved closer toward her. "You said it yourself. I'm much nicer than most of the directors you've worked with."

"What does that have to do with anything?" She crossed her arms, and the two were standing completely face to face. Annie's expression remained neutral, though Armin could see something bubbling up. He hadn't noticed how short she was till that moment. "You're a nice guy."

"Yeah, but isn't there always a catch?" She may have been short, but he certainly didn't tower over her. Armin looked down on her as the two were practically chest to chest, and a small smirk pulled at his lips. "You've worked with plenty of people, you know how things work. From the moment I stepped out you've been suspicious."

"Have I?" One brow was raised, as was a corner of her mouth. "Honestly, if you're just giving me the icy mitt here, I can take it."

He shook his head. "There's nothing to reject, Ms. Annie. I can promise you I'm no lech." By how close Annie was getting to him, he was sure she wasn't completely convinced. His heart was pounding. "I wouldn't judge if you did, but I don't think you'd ever sit on the casting couch to begin with."

Her mouth returned to a flat line. "Who knows? A paycheck is a paycheck. I know people in this business who have done far worse."

"You have a lot to lose, don't you? I assume you've already lost something."

For the first time, Annie didn't have an immediate retort. Her eyes went wider, and she simply stared at him. For a moment, the silence was filled by each of their deep breaths.

"People are practically looking for scandals these days. You would never let anyone hold that kind of power over you. From what I can see." Armin was beginning to become very conscious about the fact that now they were practically nose to nose. "I mean, I won't pry into your personal life of course, but I can promise you that I'm not asking for anything in return. Especially something that could endanger your career. I admire you too much, anyway."

Annie remained silent again. Almost alarmingly so, as her eyes drifted to the side. There was heat between them that the silence only enhanced. She was so close he would only need to move an inch for his lips to meet hers. As if that was her plan all along. Of course, as she seemed to move toward him that was evident.

He was going to speak up, the sweat forming on his brow making it unbearable. Until he heard something he didn't expect to in that moment. It was a laugh. Annie was laughing. It was very low, soft and melodious, even a bit sinister, but a laugh none the less. It took him by surprise, and he was taken aback.

"Mr. Arlert, you're smart. I'll give you that." While her eyes were still drifted off to the side, a corner of her mouth turned up.

"O-Or you're just not that subtle of a flirt." Armin chuckled and cleared his throat. He was surprised to see Annie's pale face have a pink tinge to it. When her eyes moved to meet his again, she felt something come between them. His script. She took it from his hands and backed away.

"I never exactly agreed to anything, you know." She moved toward the door and slipped on her hat.

Armin gave her a much more sincere and collected grin as he walked her out. "We're leaving for LA on Friday. If you agree, I'll see you at the train station before noon, okay?"

"Hmm..." She turned to Armin at the door and put out her hand. "We'll see. Nice meeting you Mr. Arlert."

"Like wise, Ms. Annie." He took her hand and shook, lingering for a moment as their eyes met one more time. With a curt nod and a nervous smile, they parted and he shut the door behind her. He could still feel the warmth of her hand as he drifted back into the bedroom and collapsed face first on his bed.

Armin let out a loud groan and Mikasa, who was sitting next to a still sleeping Eren, turned to him concerned.

"Everything okay? She was a bit more of a bearcat than expected."

Armin grunted, and shook his head. "Everything's jake, Mika. I just...m-my head hurts and I really need a cold shower.

* * *

><p>The air Friday morning was cool, a good indicator of the fall season that was just rolling in. Around him, the train station was bustling with activity. Between commuters and fellow travelers, it was hard to keep up. Mikasa and Eren stood next to him in their fall coats. Eren was as grouchy as ever during early hours without coffee, and Mikasa was double checking their tickets.<p>

A crowd of young women swarmed a few feet away from him. The reason was obvious, as Jean was traveling with them. He stood in the middle as some girls asked for autographs and some for kisses. Jean was more than willing to give either. He laughed and they swooned.

"What a peacock…" Eren grumbled, making Armin laugh. It did good to calm his nerves. Armin looked over the crowd, searching for the blonde actress he wanted so badly to show up. He glanced over at the clock. which read 11:45. It was cutting close, and he was ready to give up. His heart sank in his chest as people began to board the train. A man took their luggage, and Mikasa tapped Armin's shoulder to move him along.

"It's okay," He said, giving her a reassuring grin. "Save us a seat. I'll find our box in a jiff." Mikasa frowned, but nodded in return. As people boarded, the crowd dispersed and he still saw no sign of Annie.

11:53. At that point, Armin knew when to give up. He didn't want to, though. What other actress could play a role specifically written for Annie Hart? What other actress could fulfill his vision that well.

When the whistle blew, he knew he had to move. Armin sighed, and turned to board before he heard the engine of a model T behind him. No, it wasn't a regular old car. It was a limo, and inside he saw her. The driver opened the door, and out stepped Annie with her luggage in tow. Armin could barely contain his joy as he rushed over to help her.

"Midtown traffic." Was all she said in response to his quizzical look. She may have appeared tired, but Armin thought she was radiant.

He beamed, and grabbed one of her suitcases. "Come on, let's ankle." They walked to the train practically shoulder to shoulder, and Armin was happy to finally get to talk to her while he had a clear head.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: **

**Behold, the reason I haven't updated Laying Low in four months.**  
><strong>An odd little hobbyinterest of mine is that I absolutely adore silent films and early cinema. So when this idea popped into my head one day I had to run with it. It was too fun to pass up! Even if others don't care about silent film very much, what better way is there to spark an interest then fanfiction? So here it is, I really hope you all enjoy! Now, as it is finals week for my poor college ass, I may not get to updating either fic till winter break, but it'l come! I'm too stubborn to give up on writing anything! If you notice any glaring historical inaccuracies, don't be afraid to point them out to me! I did a lot of research, but even history majors make mistakes. Enjoy!**

**History and slang notes. Let's learn things!:**  
><strong>rhatz- damn, disappointing. Basically what you'd expect.<strong>  
><strong>Left holding the bag- Left hanging, cheated out of something.<strong>  
><strong>egg- a person who lives the big life.<strong>  
><strong>An ace- A dollar<strong>  
><strong>D.W. Griffith- Known as the father of American cinema, he was a visionary and influential director through out the 1910's and 20's. However, on a darker note, he was also the director of the infamously racist 1915 film Birth of a Nation. Yes, even for 1915 it was a bit much. Seriously. He was quick to regret it, and the next year he would come out with the epic Intolerance, which basically had the exact opposite message. It's on netflix, I'd check it out if you don't mind 3 hour movies!<strong>  
><strong>Wet Blanket- Kill joy<strong>  
><strong>Fella- Basically the same as today<strong>  
><strong>Get Hot!- Encouragement for a dancer to do their thing. Ya know.<strong>  
><strong>Sloshededge/buzzed/zozzled- Several of a million euphemisms for drunk**  
><strong>Futz- Fuck<strong>  
><strong>Sock- Punch<strong>  
><strong>Banks closed- No hugging, no kissing.<strong>  
><strong>Necking- Make out<strong>  
><strong>There's a small mention here of the Spanish flu, which was a massive world wide flu pandemic in 1918. Millions of people around the world were killed, it was absolutely devastating.<strong>  
><strong>Photoplay- It was essentially the Entertainment Weekly magazine of the early 20th century in a way. It featured articles and reviews on films and actors, as well as advertisements for beauty and house products. There are some gorgeous covers featuring various early film stars if you want to check them out!<strong>  
><strong>Charlie Chaplin- The greatest film icon of the day and still one of the most influential comedians ever.<strong>  
><strong>Mary Pickford- Probably the first movie star. Though I myself prefer Lillian Gish, she was immensely talented and gorgeous.<strong>  
><strong>goofy- In love<strong>  
><strong>Grummy- upset<strong>  
><strong>Bushwa- Bullshit. This one should come back.<strong>  
><strong>What's eating you?- What's wrong?<strong>  
><strong>Sap- A fool<strong>  
><strong>Dame- a woman<strong>  
><strong>Baby vamp- Femme Fatale. The exact opposite of the...<strong>  
><strong>Ingenue- An endearingly wholesome, innocent, and virginal young woman.<strong>  
><strong>Icy mitt- rejection<strong>  
><strong>Casting couch- Sleeping with someone for a role.<strong>  
><strong>Jake- Great. Kinda curious of how this got started.<strong>  
><strong>Let's ankle- Let's go<strong>  
><strong>and as for a larger historical context, in the early 1920s Hollywood was plagued by a number of scandals, from drug overdoses and murders, to the infamous Fatty Arbuckle trial. As Middle America was turning against the film industry as they saw it as immoral (go figure), rules were starting to be set down as the blacklist was a looming threat and people could be banned from film if any bad behavior became public. There's a lot more to it and it's a very fascinating situation that if you're interested, I'd do a google search and have at it!<strong>


	2. Biograph Girl

"I thought the studio let you go."

Annie froze for a moment as she pushed down the lid of her third suitcase. Her fathers gruff German accent could be heard from across their upscale apartment. Annie silently cursed herself, hoping to leave the house before he was able to wake up.

"They didn't. I left willingly." She called back, hauling her suitcase towards the door with the others. "This is another studio."

Her father nodded, and grunted in response. He sat in the living room, a glass of water on the coffee table and his cane leaning against the sofa. "Are they paying you more, at least?"

Annie shook her head, but didn't look back at him as she grabbed her coat. "I don't know."

She didn't have to look at him to see the disappointment on his face. After a short pause, she spoke up again. "I think I like the director. He's interesting."

Annie felt a knot in her stomach when she looked up at the clock. 11:05, and she hadn't even stepped out of her apartment. She began to gather the rest of her things, gloves and hat secured on her hands and head, ready to meet her driver out front.

Technically, it wouldn't matter if she didn't show up, and she knew it. Annie had never formally agreed to this. No contracts were signed yet, but...Armin was certainly interesting.

"Ann," Her father called, and she could hear him struggle to shift around in his spot. "Help me, before you leave."

She furrowed her brow, and looked at the clock one more time. It was cutting too close. "I can't. Mina will be here soon, just wait for her to do it."

"The Irish maid?" He huffed, taking a sip of his water. "I would rather the needle go in the first time, not the tenth." Annie sighed, knowing that an argument as stupid as this would only keep her away from the train station longer.

She took off her hat and gloves and moved to the near by kitchen, opening up the cabinet and grabbing out the needle. Next to it was the small daily dosage of prescribed morphine. Annie hated the sight of it. She hated the sight of the needle, and she hated the sight of her fathers veins.

Not that it stopped her from having to do this for him whenever she was home. Any complaining was either made immediately moot in one way or another, or completely ignored. Her father already had the band tightened around his forearm, and the dosage was given in a matter of seconds.

"I really need to go now, papa." She said as she got up and kissed his cheek. Outside she could hear the honking of her limos horn, and knew she was keeping countless people up.

Mina was at the door, and Annie hadn't even noticed her come into the apartment. "Is there anything else you need, Ms. Leonhart?" She handed her her hat and gloves with a smile and knitted brows, and Annie shook her head.

"Just take care of him. I'm sorry I had to cut in on your holiday."

"It's not a problem Ms. Leonhart. I can't argue with extra pay." Annie grabbed her bags and returned a small smile to Mina. Before she could step out the door, her father called to her one more time.

"Hey, Annie?" She turned to him, and noticed he was starting to get up. Mina immediately made sure he stayed seated. "Just remember to come home for Christmas."

"...I will. Auf wiedersehen, papa."

"Auf wiedersehen."

Annie stepped out of her apartment and into the brisk morning air. Autumn in Manhattan was always unpredictable, but it seemed to be leaning more towards colder temperatures that year. Not that it would matter in four days. Southern California autumns were far from the chill of New York. She didn't hesitate to step into her car and drive down, but the unmistakable nervous knot in her stomach refused to go away. For the life of her, she didn't know why.

* * *

><p>The train was crowded. Peaking around, Annie saw several familiar faces in the boxes of the car. Toward the back, Annie spotted Jean and Marco sitting across from each other, laughing about something she wasn't even a little interested in finding out about. Sitting with them wasn't an option. Neither was sitting with Reiner and Bertl, who were comfortably seated in a box toward the middle. She made eye contact with Reiner, who smiled at her and waved. Her brows furrowed, and she turned her gaze away quick.<p>

Even if she wanted to sit there, the other two seats were clearly occupied by a boy and girl she barely recognized. Perhaps she'd met the young flapper at a party. She didn't often remember faces for long. Of course, one memorable face was smiling at her. "Sit with us, Annie," Armin opened the door to the box occupied by him and his roommates. "We have a seat open."

"..." She stared at it for a moment, tempted to run to the unoccupied box behind them. Sitting alone would be difficult with him near by, she knew. She'd only met the guy once, and already she had the impression of someone who knew how to sweet talk into getting his way. "Alright."

Mikasa and Armin grabbed her trunks, and placed them neatly in the cupboard next to theirs. They could feel the train move under them, and Annie almost tripped into her seat near the window.

"Watch yourself." Armin chuckled, catching her arm and helping her settle down. He took the seat next to her, and across from them Eren napped on Mikasa's shoulder as she read a book. The train was barely out of the city, and Annie was thankful that so far the trip was quiet, even if for only a few minutes. She leaned on her palm, and gazed out of the window at the ever changing landscape. The four day trip to Los Angeles was one she was very familiar with at that point, but it was easy to see that Armin was not.

Through the reflection of the glass, she could see him fidgeting. Armins fingers tangled together and came apart over and over, and she could feel him shifting in his seat several times. Whether it was the silence of their car, or the prospect of being so far away from home, he was nervous.

Mikasa took away the need for Annie to ask the obvious question. "Are you okay?"

"Y-Yeah," Armin met her eyes, which only just peaked out from her book. "I just didn't get much sleep last night, and I-I've never been on a train for this long before."

"Would you like me to ask them to bring you a cup of tea? Or an extra blanket maybe?"

"No Mika, I'm fine, really." He smiled at her, but as Annie watched their exchange out of the corner of her eye, she could tell he wasn't exactly being as sincere as his tone would suggest.

"Hm." Mikasa's eyebrows knit, and she looked back down at what she was reading. "Okay. If you say so, Armin."

Armin nodded his head, and looked down at his fidgeting hands, a small frown dropped onto his lips. It didn't suit him, Annie thought. She remembered their meeting a few days before, and how his face always seemed to have some kind of brightness to it. Even in the moments where her, intentional or unintentional, intimidations seemed to almost get the better of him.

For a moment, she pictured him as an actor, on screen with her perhaps, who could easily light up a sepia picture. She remembered a recent issue of Motion Picture magazine, and how in their review for her last film, they mentioned how Annie's "role as the young, wide eyed, dumb dora lady-in-waiting always seemed to have an air of mystery and darkness on screen that didn't seem to be scripted. This character stuck out simply by Ms. Hart's natural affinity toward the mysterious and dark. How often does she genuinely, truly, show us a smile in publicity shots, I wonder?"

The article was mailed to her by the director with a note of congratulations. For what, Annie didn't bother to think too much about it. The article clipping was currently rotting in some California dump.

Even if she had only been in the same room as him a couple times, his atmosphere was noticeably different. Any old critic, she thought, would probably describe him on screen as a sunny, idealist, smart mouth with an affinity toward the unknown or...something. Annie decided not to think too much about that, either. For all she figured, he could turn out to be as smarmy an asshole as any.

Though that was hard to see with the smile that returned to his face when their eyes met. It was small, but it was there, and it was oddly reassuring. She felt the slight burn of a blush on her face when she thought of how odd it must of looked for her to just be staring out the corner of her eye like that.

"The next four days are going to be awfully dull if it stays like this the whole time." He joked, shifting into a more comfortable position.

"Well," She began, turning towards him. "From experience, I can tell you the easiest way to get through it is sleep. Jaeger's got the right idea."

The two talked at a normal level, and Eren didn't seem to be bothered at all since he wasn't dealing with a hangover. Mikasa was either very engrossed in whatever she was reading, or consciously ignoring them both. The fact that Annie herself was hinting toward wanting to sleep rather than talk was either flying over Armins head, or being willfully ignored. Annie knew that with him, the latter was just as likely.

"You know, the longest train ride I've ever been on was only about two hours long, with my parents years ago." Armin smiled at the memory, and leaned back. Almost 45 minutes in, he was finally really easing up. "I got motion sickness after about an hour. My father was mortified, and my poor mother was so worried."

"Hmm," Annie peaked back out the window as the scenery changed from skyscrapers to farmland in the blink of an eye. "From puking on a two hour ride, to bravely facing a four day trip to Hollywood. Your parents must be very proud, Mr. Arlert."The sunny look in his eyes dimmed. "Y-Yeah, I'm sure." Armin scratched the back of his neck, and averted his gaze. Annie noticed Mikasa glaring up at her for a split second, and she got the feeling that sarcasm there was horribly misplaced.

Armin spoke up before she got the chance to dwell on it. He briefly talked to her more about his experiences with trains, reassuring her that he wasn't going to get sick this time around, especially not around her. He was a rambler, another thing she picked up on during their casting meeting. A clever, oddly intuitive, baby faced rambler. In short, he was odd.

Annie found herself responding occasionally, but for the next ten minutes it was mostly him talking to her about the studio lot he was loaned for the picture by Mr Smith. He was enthusiastic, and certainly in a better mind than a few days ago.

She didn't mind. Unlike most, Armin had a pleasant voice to listen to. She was almost disappointed when he stopped, perhaps sensing her eagerness to sleep the rest of the day away. When the car was silent, save for the sound of the moving train, she nodded off quickly into the second day of their journey. The smell of freshly baked muffins and an argumentative Brooklyn accent were her wake up calls.

* * *

><p>He was a bit embarrassed when he noticed Annie had woken up. The rest of the car was quiet again as he handed her a muffin, brows apologetically knit.<p>

"I'm sorry, Ms. Annie," He smiled at her, as genuinely as one could after sleeping upright. "Eren's a naturally loud talker...even in his sleep."

"No kidding." She yawned and stretched her arms out, almost hitting Armin's face in the process. "That's okay. It's not like I need a proper amount of sleep to appear in front of a camera."

Annie looked around their box, and noted the deeply sleeping figures of Eren and Mikasa. "What time is it?"

"Almost 10:30am."

"Baloney…" There was something strangely adorable that Armin found as Annie rubbed her eyes and yawned once more. "It's too early."

"Too early?" Armin chuckled and took a bite of his muffin. "I'm usually up at least two hours before."

"Hm. You must be insane, then."

"I guess so, heh." Armin had a hard time pulling his eyes away. Annie leaned against the window, her eyes scanning the ever changing scenery around them, and soon enough the box was silent again.

It didn't sit well with him. In front of him was his muse, the reason he was on that train to begin with, and he was fairly determined to have a conversation with her. One that wasn't under the influence of a hangover and nerves. Something told him he was talking more with the actress than the person back then, any way. The air felt heavy, and it made him miles more uncomfortable then he'd liked. He heard Annie swallow, and she shifted in her seat. She looked stiff.

"Sh-shut it, ya...lousy bimbo…" Eren muttered in his sleep, curling up to and heavily resting Mikasa. They almost looked like children. He chuckled at the sight, as it brought him back to familiar ones from their time growing up together. The two had odd sleeping habits, that was for sure. Talking with her in there would surely wake them up with terrible moods. And that was when the opportunity became clear.

Annie could hear him bustling behind her. She turned to him with a raised brow, and he motioned for her to get up. Or, at least she assumed, as a strong ray of sunlight poured into the box and momentarily blinded her. When she finally regained her sight, he held one of her suitcases in front of her.

"We can come back for the others later." He said, in a tone of voice that she found strangely confident. Although with the bright yet nervous smile on his face, it was clear he was simply excited. "I don't want to wake them, and sometimes I like to give them space. I figure we'd all get sick of having so little room to breath for four days."

"Is that so?" She inquired as she got to her feet. She hadn't noticed how cramped the box was till she almost tripped over Eren's feet. Armin's arm, luckily, was there to latch on to.

"There's an empty box behind us. I'm sure they won't mind being alone for a little while." Armin smiled at his sleeping, cuddling friends, before turning his gaze back to Annie and leading her out. "Between you and me, I think they're going to be insured soon."

"Well good for them." Annie's tone stayed level at its oddly melodious monotone that Armin loved. He opened the door to the box and quickly placed their belongings over head. Annie took her seat, and the moment he went to sit next to her he hesitated.

_No,_ he thought. _Slow down. Don't make her uncomfortable._

It felt refreshing to be alone with her again. Especially with a clear head. Annie's gaze turned again to the window, as if she was specifically trying to ignore him. Well, he couldn't blame her. Here he was trying to prove himself to her, including not looking like the lech she somehow expected, and he was coming up with lame excuses to get her alone. Suddenly he felt very aware of the fact that he hadn't gotten to brush his teeth that morning. He rushed to sit across from her.

"...Queens?" He broke the silence, and was greeted with the confusion he expected.

"What?"

"Queens. That's where you grew up? S-Sorry, I've just been trying to place your accent since I met you…" His cheeks were slowly turning red. "A-And my best guess is Queens."

She stared at him for a moment, silent, face straight. Armin pulled at his collar, immediately thinking he said something wrong. If he could read her face it would be easier to deal with. His fears were alleviated when she cracked a small grin and stifled a chuckle.

"You're wrong. Not completely. But you're wrong." Her gaze returned to the window. He wondered if he could get Annie to make the same kind of eye contact she made when they were negotiating, or if that was simply a part of her ruse to get to him. Still, he was happy to simply produce a grin, and his face lit up again.

"Well, I can't always be right." He leaned forward, supporting himself on his elbows. "Can I take another guess?"

"I don't see why that's necessary." Annie's sharp blue eyes flickered to him. "You're Brooklyn, that's more than obvious."

"My accents not that strong!" He protested with a laugh.

"Yours might not be, but your friends make it a bit more obvious."

He nodded his head and shrugged. She certainly wasn't wrong about that. "So? Am I allowed to know the real answer, or should I keep guessing? There are a limited number of boroughs, after all."

"..." Armin leaned forward in anticipation. For a few seconds all he got was a side glance and a view of Annie biting a nail. "I've never been one to beat my gums, Mr. Arlert."

"Oh...because you find it boring, or because you're terrible at it?" Armin's innocent tone of voice didn't stop him from feeling almost instantly bad for the wording. "I-I'm sorry, that sounded rude, I didn't mean it like that! It's just..."

Annie cocked an eyebrow, and turned more toward him. "I think I've failed as an actress if I come off as socially inept in any way."

"W-Well," Armin's face was pink, and he tried to mask his nervous chuckle. "You don't come off that way at all. But it doesn't seem like I've gotten to see much of the real you, to begin with."

"Oh?" Annie's interest seemed to peak, but if Armin figured anything out, with her it would always be a little hard to tell.

"You have to come off as more confident in order to capture interest, after all." He eased up a bit, but still nervously fidgeted with his fingers.

"That is true. So do I come off as confident to you?"

"Yes, but that doesn't exactly mean you are. I say I'm a director, but my filmography says otherwise. You see?"

"Yeah...Mr. Arlert, has anyone ever told you you talk too much?" Her mouth was hidden under her hand, but Armin could swear he saw a small but prominent smirk.

"...All the time." His face was on par with a tomato. "I'm sorry."

"Don't apologize. We've figured out that maybe I can't do idle chatter, but you can. It's a good trade off."

Armin perked up once again and smiled at her. "I guess so."

"...Manhattan, by the way. But not the ritzy part. Lower east side. Orchard street." As she spoke, her gaze drifted away from him again. Her tone was low and face pink, and Armin was sure she wasn't comfortable. Still, Armin was happy she was talking about herself, and he wouldn't dare end the conversation there.

"Orchard street?" His eyebrows knit. "That's-"

"Not what you expected from an actress?"

"It's certainly a more humble beginning than most would expect, Ms. Annie." He didn't want to pry, but the more she revealed, the more he wanted to know. The lower East side probably meant one thing. "How did an immigrant girl from the slums become a hollywood darling at such a young age?"

He sincerely hoped she wasn't finished. Especially since it was becoming even more obvious by her stiff body language that she was out of her comfort zone. "Vaudeville. You must not have been big into the entertainment industry if you've never heard of Baby Annie."

"My parents were a little too poor to afford going to performances back then." For a moment, Armin fondly remembered the three of them going to a flicker when he was ten. They loved how the action could be translated so well and so perfectly through movement and music alone. It didn't matter that they couldn't speak English. "'Baby Annie' sounds a bit…"

"Ridiculous, I know." She let out a sigh, and loosened her posture just enough to let Armin know that he wasn't doing anything wrong by asking these types of questions. "I was a child, so it's not like I could pick my own stage name. They told me to go out on stage and dance, and that's exactly what I did. 'Sing this song, Annie,' and I would go out and do exactly that. People would clap, I got paid. It's the bees knees to any little girl."

"They don't mention that much in the articles about you, you know." He recalled as he thought back on them all. He then flushed at the fact that he had read so much on her.

There was a prominent frown on her face. "It's not something I want to be associated with. The only thing I have in common with that little girl is a first name."

"So 'Hart' is a stage name. I figured!" Armin wiggled a bit in his seat, and repositioned himself to get more comfortable.

"...You're going to ask what my actual last name is now, aren't you?"

Armin shamelessly nodded.

"...It's Leonhardt. Don't go spreading that around." Her face was growing pink again, and Armin's eyes lit up. Something told him that this wasn't information that she freely gave away, and that made him feel all the more grateful that she was willing to give it to him. Why, he didn't exactly know, but it did make him feel a bit more confident.

"Leonhardt...Oh! You're German?" Through his only small knowledge of the German language, he knew that that name had a meaning to it. Leonhardt. Lionheart. A fitting name if he ever saw one.

She confirmed this, and let out a sigh. "'Hart' was easier to fit on billings. The studio head told me it was more charming, and open for a lot of cutesy headlines. Whatever."

"And it was less German." Armin observed, unintentionally thinking outloud.

"...Yeah." Her tone was low again, but she didn't seem offended, which he was grateful for. "1918 wasn't a fun year for anyone, Mr. Arlert. If you were here, and you were German, you were automatically suspicious. My fathers accent earned him a lot of odd looks." Annie's mind seemed to drift for a moment, but Armin knew that this wasn't something to pry into. "And then of course you were either dying in the trenches, dying of Spanish flu, or a tragic combination of both."

Armin tensed briefly at the mention of the flu. No, 1918 was certainly a year he didn't like remembering for that very reason. "I-I barely survived that myself." His gaze turned down, and his face dimmed again. "M-My parents weren't exactly as lucky…" He practically whispered this, and for a moment Annie looked at him with genuine shock on her face.

Of course, it didn't last long before her usual stoic expression returned. To Armin's surprise, however, her expression turned remorseful. The comment she made about his parents before surely came to mind. Annie remained silent, and a heavy atmosphere started weigh in on them as the silence went on.

Armin broke it himself. "But...I've made it this far on my own. I'm going to Hollywood, about to make my first feature length film, a-and I got you to star in it. I think they would be proud of me."

Annie swallowed, and gave him the first genuine, meaningful smile he had seen from her. "I'm sure."

He smiled wide back at her, and couldn't contain his thoughts. "You have such a beautiful smile."

She went red instantly, but seemed to compose herself just as fast. He was certain it wasn't the first time someone had said that to her, anyway. "...Thank you."

Armin was pleasantly surprised at how well it was all going. Maybe it wasn't an enormous amount, but getting her to open up at least a little was a good start. He must have made some kind of an impact, because she was open to conversation for the rest of the day.

Nothing could compare to the feeling he got in the morning when he woke up to her sleeping on his shoulder, script in her lap, and open to one of his favorite scenes.

He had forgotten he switched to her side of the car. Towards the end of the day, when dinner was being served, she asked if he made any rewrites, and Armin was all too willing to show it to her again. His script, he thought, was genuinely good. On par with any horror that was coming out in recent years.

Annie skimmed it again when he sat down next to her and handed it over. Since their last meeting, his rewrites had been minimal.

"Any rewrites to your character I want you to suggest." He said, as Annie looked up at him with genuine confusion on her face.

"But...why, exactly? It's your story, not mine." She looked back down to the pages, and flipped closer to the end. Armin shrugged, and looked over her shoulder.

"I just think you have the right to play who you want this time. This is an experience that I want to be good to you. If you don't want to play another Ingenue, I think that's understandable." Armin smiled as he noticed Annie stop on a particular page.

Annie's eyebrows furrowed as she examined the page. "I..I appreciate that."

Armin simply smiled, and watched her read the scenario.

"I'm trying to imagine what kind of body language and expression I should use here…" She tapped on the page, and Armin took it from her briefly.

"Well," Armin looked over his own writing, and imagined the scene in his head. The intertitles were up to him, but it was up to the actors to really set the mood. "You just found out your sister, played by Christa, has been dead since the end of the first act. Not just that, but she was murdered by the very young lord whose house you're staying in, Jean. I'd say... your expression is all over the place."

He set it down on her lap, and looked right into her eyes. Armin put his finger in front of her face, and Annie, familiar with a directors ways, knew to follow it.

First, he moved to the left, and Annie's face followed. "Confusion. You're sister has been by your side the whole time. She can't be dead, can she? Have you been seeing things?" Next, he moved to the right. "Shock. You look to where she was standing, and suddenly she's not there anymore. Where did she go? Was she even there to begin with?"

Annie was completely in character. Almost on cue, her eyes were teary, and Armin was beyond impressed. "You think you've gone mad. You're ready to tear your hair out." Annie's fingers threaded and grabbed at her, previously perfectly done, blonde hair as Armin moved her face to face his. "And the man who is the cause of this all is not just in the house, but you know he's standing right outside the room." One hand stayed on her hair as another covered her mouth, the shock and despair present in her wide and teary eyes. "...And that's that! Ms. Annie, that was absolutely perfect. You'll have no issue with this at all."

On cue, Annie was back to herself. She wiped her eyes, and glared a bit at her thumb when she noticed she had rubbed off some make up. "You can call me Annie, you know. ' ' is far too formal."

"R-Really?" He perked up with excitement, and smiled wide. "...Annie. Okay, I can do that. Then you call me Armin. I'm only 20, and Mr. Arlert just makes me sound so old."

"Absolutely not." She looked at him with a surprisingly playful look. "That's way too informal."

"...What?" He chuckled, and scratched his face as he thought on all of this.

"It's okay for you to be informal with me, Mr. Arlert. You're my director. You can call me whatever you want. You could call me floozy and it would be acceptable." She seemed amused at his bewildered expression, but he was getting it quickly.

"Hmmm…" He looked off in thought for a moment before meeting her eyes again. "Alright. And if you simply called me Armin, people would start to think we were living in medieval splendor. Somehow, that doesn't seem likely."

"Maybe not, but it would be a one way ticket to the blacklist for at least one of us. And that one of us would probably be me."

"Fair enough…" His expression became softer, and he picked the script up from her lap again. "Annie, thank you for trusting me enough to be in my picture."

"...No problem." Annie bit her lip, and diverted her eyes to the page. Armin's, however, were still on her. She didn't come up with an excuse this time, and he liked that.

* * *

><p>Armin was grateful that by the end of their journey, Annie and him were still sitting alone. There wasn't much left to discuss as they started to pull into the station, but everything they had talked about over the past two days, both personal and work related, stuck with him. If he was a fan of her before, it was nothing compared to now. Annie finished fixing up her hair, and stood up to grab one of her bags.<p>

"I'll help!" He insisted, as he carried two down for her before going for his own. She thanked him, and waited by the door until he was also ready. The whistle blew loud and clear as the train came to a stop, and the doors began to open to the outside.

"Now, Mr. Arlert, I hope you're not planning on staying in a hotel this whole time." it was still a few minutes till their car was to be let out, and Annie leaned against the door frame as she spoke with him.

"Oh, no! Jean has extra rooms in his mansion."

"Of course he does." Annie let out a sigh, which Armin couldn't tell the purpose of. Speak of the devil himself, Jean stood across from him vertically and waved, mouthing at him to meet him outside. Armin nodded, and waved back.

"Before we get off and part, our first meeting will be tomorrow night. And, uh…" He slipped into his pocket and found a piece of paper with Jean's address on it, now useless to him. "You can stop by if you want. I mean, I-I did say you can contribute whatever you want to your character."

Annie hesitated for a moment before taking the paper and slipping it into her purse. Finally, it was about time for their car to be let out. Before he could go however, Annie leaned up and kissed him on the cheek.

His face heated up so fast, he was practically choking.

"Thank you for making this trip go a little faster." Annie, red in the face herself, looked him up and down before grabbing her bags and exiting the box. "I'll see you tomorrow."

"Annie…" Armin quickly grabbed his bags and followed after her, but the crowd was quicker in cutting them off. _Damn._

He was brought back to reality when he felt a hand clap onto his shoulder. Armin almost jumped right out of his pants. "Well aren't we a sheik?"

Eren greeted him with a smile, and Mikasa gave him a hug. "H-hey guys, how was the ride?"

"Oddly relaxing." Mikasa answered, picking up one of his bags. "I assume it was equally as enjoyable for you?" She smiled at him, and started to bring out a handkerchief. "You have a bit of lipstick on your cheek."

"Huh?" Armin's voice cracked, and his hand slapped right on the spot where she kissed him. "N-No, it wasn't anything like- I mean, I just-"

"Relax, relax, don't cast a kitten." Eren put an arm around his shoulder, and the three walked to where they knew Jean would be.

Predictably, he was surrounded by admirers. Sure, Marco, Reiner, and Bertl had a sizable crowd around them as well, but it was nothing compared to the shrieking mass trying to engulf Jean. He laughed, and took it all in as he shook hands, kissed a few cheeks, and signed a few magazines. He was also more than willing to pose for the newspapers as they brought out their cameras. Armin couldn't deny that Eren was right in saying that Jean was a total peacock.

The crowd suddenly parted, and out walked the angelic figure of a young, popular blonde actress whom Armin recognized instantly. Christa Lenz, his second leading lady. The three moved toward them, and Christa greeted them with a sweet smile. However, she quickly turned to Jean, who grabbed her hand and kissed it before outright kissing her. The women in the crowd didn't seem too happy, but the photographers ate up the site. Towering behind Christa was a tall dark woman with an intimidating look that could rival Annie's. The suit she wore fit her nicely, and she looked professional despite everything.

Christa, Jean, and the woman walked toward the trio to meet them away from the crowd.

"Welcome." Christa said with a smile, and took Armins hand. "I'm looking forward to working for you, Mr. Arlert."

Her smile was infectious, and Armin was momentarily slack jawed in her presence. "I-It'll be a great experience. I hope you're ready to work tomorrow."

Christa wasn't able to get another word in before she was interrupted by the other woman. "Wait just a hot minute. This is Mr. Arlert? This scrawny palooka is our boss?"

"Ymir!" Chista hit her arm, and the woman named Ymir simply laughed it off. "I'm sorry, she's a bit-"

"Ymir, your scenario writer/costumer." Ymir took Armins hand, giving it a shake that he felt even after she let go. "So we'll probably be seeing plenty of each other."

"Both?" Armin cocked an eyebrow, and Ymir simply smirked. "Those are completely different jobs, and I already have a scenario-"

"Yeah, the studio doesn't want to spend that much on you. You know, since you're new meat and all. For all they know, you could turn out to be box office poison." Christa hit her arm again, and Ymir retaliated by using Christa's head as an armrest. "Don't mind Christa here, she's been trying to get me to shut up since we met at a sewing circle."

Armin was no stranger to how studios worked, so as he thought to himself, he knew he shouldn't be surprised that they weren't pulling out all the stops for him. Well, here was most of his main cast and part of his crew. He still needed to meet his photography director, and he sincerely hoped the meeting wouldn't be quite as loud as this one.

Ymir and Christa said their goodbyes moments later, and Jean led the three of them toward his limo to bring them to his home. Armin searched the dispersing crowd, hoping to catch a glimpse of Annie again, his mind now racing. Jean talked to them all the way to the parking lot, but all he could think of was her, and what they talked about, and her soft lips against his cheek.

He was disappointed to see she must have left a while ago. Armin was already anxious to see her again tomorrow, and almost everyday for the next few months.

* * *

><p><strong>AN:**

**HEY I'M BACK and ready to put aside more time for writing! There have been so many distractions in my life, but now the holidays are over, a new semester is upon us, and I'm more pumped than ever! Again, if you see any glaring historical inaccuracies, don't be afraid to yell at me about it. Questions, comments, reviews, and all that jazz, are welcomed and encouraged!**

**Next chapter, we're gonna start to make a movie. a SILENT MOVIE. **

**Historical and Slang notes:**

**Well first off, New York City is made up of five Boroughs; Manhattan (the one people usually think of when they think of NYC), Staten Island (The one everyone forgets), The Bronx, Brooklyn, and Queens. **

**"Beat my/your/ones gums" Idle chatter**

**"Bimbo", at the time, meant a big tough guy. I have no clue how that changed.**

**The lower east side of Manhattan is generally where a lot of early 20th century immigrants right off the boat settled. It wasn't the best place to be, especially in contrast to Park Ave and Madison Ave. That's where a lot of those tiny tenement houses were, and personally is my favorite part of the city to explore. China Town and Little Italy are both near by.**

**"Biograph Girl" Well apart from being a short lived West End musical was also the nickname given to actresses Mary Pickford and Florence Lawrence in the days when actors in film remained anonymous (due in part to studios not wanting them to gain celebrity status.) **

**"Insured" meant engaged **

**I think we all know what the bees knees means.**

**"Sheik" A man with sex appeal. "Sheba" would be the female equivalent. **

**"cast a kitten" throwing a fit. Yeah this ones a little odd to me.**

**A "sewing circle" was like a group of actors at the time who had to conceal their sexuality. Yeah, Ymir isn't subtle. **

**Small note on the part about her German last name; Did you know, during World War I, sauerkraut was renamed "Liberty Cabbage" due to concerns that the American public wouldn't buy a product with a German name? Seriously. Google it. **


End file.
